Devastation & Reform

Notes: Hello, and welcome to my personal adaptation/re-write of S4 of 'The Vampire Diaries'. I hope you'll stay a while. ;)

Plot lines that you should expect to encounter in this story:

An extensive delving into the concept of a vampire bloodline, and the widespread implications that has. A complete and thorough investigation and overhaul of the spell in which vampires were created, and subsequently an important focus on the nature and existence of the doppelganger as a supernatural being, as well as the origins of the vampire species. A different spin and attempt on the Vampire Council story line introduced in early S4. The concept of a cure for vampirism used in a completely different context, although still tied to the concept of 'The Five'. Many, many flashbacks including all eras and characters. A focus on a purely platonic aspect of both Stelena and Delena (*gasp*). A complex and intricate Katherine/Elena non-sexual relationship/partnership. A lot of Kol, and all Original Family Members, in flashbacks and in present. A strong focus on Tatia and her meaning to present-day involvement.

Plot lines that you should be absolutely certain will not appear in this story:

The existence of the concept of 'sire-bond', anything related to Silas, nohumanity!anybody, and for that matter, humanity switches in general, as well as the character of April.

This story is dedicated first and foremost to all the Elejah shipper girls of The Official Originals Forum. You guys have such a steadfast devotion and faith in this ship that honestly leaves me in awe more often than not. I wish I could say I had that kind of faith and belief in anything, but sadly, I cannot make this claim. You guys put all other shippers to shame with the deep love and analysis you put into your ship, and it is this above all else that convinced me to make this story primarily featuring Elejah.

To Taz, who is a constant means of support and friendship, and without whom it would literally be quite impossible to muster up any remaining faith in this fandom, let alone this show. You can claim all you want that the crazy and whacked out ideas I come up with are solely mine, but you should know that it would be impossible to weave them all together without you. You're the best plotting partner anyone could ever ask for.

To Andy, who's constant encouragement, critique and enthusiasm of my writing is a strong reason why this story exists. Without your words, I would be unable to write a single letter in confidence without second-guessing myself.

And lastly, to absolutely anyone out there reading this who had their heart and soul ripped out and shredded to pieces by Season Four, for any reason at all. This is for you guys.

Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries, its characters, plot lines and premise belong to LJ Smith, Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, The CW, Warner Brothers and their affiliates. I do not own anything detailed in this story, and I make no monetary profit by these writings. The song lyrics depicted in this chapter and the title come from the song 'Devastation and Reform' and belong to the band 'Relient K', the writers of the song itself, and 2007 Capitol Records. All rights reserved to respective parties.

Fear can drive stick,

and it's taking me down this road,

a road down which,

i swore i'd never go;

and here i sit,

thinking of god knows what,

afraid to admit i might self destruct.

For thousands of years, humans had contemplated the complexities surrounding death, theorized the likelihood of a pearly white gate greeting your path to the afterlife. Elena Gilbert had never been a highly religious person, and she had never held much stock in the various speculations of life after death. With that said, she had also never expected the afterlife to sound remarkably like a tropical rainforest. She could hear the rustle of wind gusting through a patch of leaves, a squirrel nibbling on the hard shell of an acorn, the distressed caw of a bird looking for its next meal, and beads of rain pelting against a screen door.

She reached her arm up to rub her eyes so she could get a clear picture of her surroundings, but was startled to feel the intense ache in her bones at even the slightest movements. She opened her eyes slowly, as if apprehensive at the possible scene before her, but a blindingly bright white light forced them shut instantly. She let out a painful moan and tried to push herself off the cold, metal slab.

The strength in her elbows gave out and she collapsed back down on the table, her breathing ragged and shallow. There was an intense burning in the back of her throat, and she couldn't recall it ever feeling so sore, not even during the two weeks she stayed home ill in Freshman Year with Laryngitis. She wanted to scoff at the memory of the sermons Pastor Young used to give when she was a little kid that insisted death was 'painless'. Well, this sure as hell wasn't painless.

The soft, unexpected touch was so startling that it made the little hairs on her forearm stand up in reaction. Her whole body seemed tense and on high alert, as if poised to defend from some onslaught of attacks. She shivered and turned away from the touch, moaning incoherent mumbles in protest.

"Elena, stop; it's okay, you're okay." The smooth, reassuring voice was unmistakably Stefan, and now she was even more confused than when she'd woken up. From the touch of the cold metal against her back and the aching bones and joints in every area of her body to Stefan's clear voice reassuring her she was okay, all signs were pointing to still being alive. But that made even less sense than waking up in this strange place. She clearly remembered—in excruciatingly vivid detail, no less—pounding on the water locked windows of Matt's submerged truck, dismissing Stefan's attempt to save her and insisting he take Matt, the painful last breath of water filling her lungs before she slid out of consciousness.

It took considerable effort to open her eyes, and the blinding white light—which she could now discern was a fluorescent lighting fixture—only accentuated the pain of the fierce pounding in her head. She noticed the worried frown on Stefan's face, and although she had been in danger more times than she could count, she had never seen him look this upset and guilty before.

"Where are we?" The question sounded perfectly articulate to her own ears, but her throat was so dry and sore that she assumed it had come out closer to some sort of gibberish. If the reaction on Stefan's face was any indication, he didn't understand a syllable of her question. He took her hand in his own, and the simple gesture sent electric shock waves down her spine, making her shiver in response.

He stroked the side of her cheek and spoke softly. "Lay back, I don't want you hurting yourself." The affectionate gestures were a nice comfort, especially given the tumultuous nature of their non-relationship in the past few months, but it only served to heighten her suspicions. His tone was worried and frantic, as if she were an unstable, skittish creature ready to lash out at a moments notice. Stefan had never spoken to her in such a way, regardless of whether he was dealing with Ripper-tendencies at the time.

She took a deep breath, clenched her fists at her sides, and tried to regain control of her vocal chords. "Stefan, what's going on?" There—she was sure that was coherent enough for Stefan's comprehension.

"Elena, you've-"

"If you give me some bullshit evasion like, 'You've been through so much, let's wait for you to get better', I'll kick you so hard you'll hit the other side of the room."

The unbridled shock on Stefan's face at the aggressiveness of her tone was clearly evident, but he couldn't have possibly been more shocked by her words than Elena herself. She may have felt the anger at being deemed of an unfit mental state to hear the reality of what had happened, but the words had flown out of her mouth before she could even contemplate stopping them.

"I'm sorry," she apologized immediately, "I—I really have no idea where that came from."

Stefan rubbed his forehead to ease some of the tension and gave her a sad smile. "I think I might have an idea." Elena was apprehensive now—nothing seemed to be adding up. Stefan was being more cryptic than normal, this place was alarmingly unfamiliar, and she'd been so certain that her final breath underwater would be the last she'd ever take.

Stefan seemed to be steeling himself with the strength to address her question as the pained look of guilt spread across his face. "Elena, when you were in the hospital with a concussion, it was far worse than Meredith let on. She fed you vampire blood to heal a cerebral hemorrhage, you would've died otherwise."

She looked up at him quizzically, trying to make sense of it. "She fed me vampire blood to heal me? Then w—", she broke off abruptly, aghast in horror as the realizations started to make more sense. "I died. She fed me vampire blood, and I-I died." She felt her arms shaking and her breath coming in short gasps. There was a tightness in her chest that she couldn't describe, her mind flooded with fears and questions she really didn't want answers to.

"Matt… is he okay?"

Stefan nodded solemnly. "He's fine; I got him out in time, he recovered fast."

Elena hesitated slightly. "And Jeremy? Does he… know where I am?"

The pity on Stefan's face was nearly suffocating her. She didn't need the compassion right now; she needed answers. It was not a pleasant sense of irony that after the past year they'd had, the one time she needed him to be stoic and unemotional, he couldn't give it to her. "He's at your house; Caroline, Bonnie and Tyler are all there with him, so he's safe. Yes, he knows what's happened." Stefan took a sharp, deep breath and she could sense the long-winded and unnecessary apology before she heard it. "Elena, I shouldn't have let this happen, I should've been stronger. I'm so sorry, I never meant—"

"Stop; please, just stop." Elena wasn't sure if it was her exasperated tone of voice or the directness of her statement that caused him to pause, but he lapsed into silence at the sound of her voice. "I asked you to save Matt. You're not allowed to feel guilty for an unexpected consequence, okay? Even if I'd known this would happen, I still would've insisted you save him."

Stefan's skepticism was immediate. "Really?"

Elena relented and wondered the same thing herself. Placating Stefan's guilt had become something of a default setting in her, and she wasn't sure if she fully meant that sentiment or whether she was trying to soothe his regret. In the fifteen seconds it took for her to fall unconscious after watching Stefan take Matt, she'd made peace with the hardships of her life, and fully accepted the inevitability of her death. She'd successfully evaded it numerous times, but at what cost? Everyone she loved died because of her. She figured if she died for everyone she loved, it was a fair trade off.

But this was not death. This was something far, far worse.

"I don't know," she conceded. "But what good does it do to wonder that now?"

Stefan gave a weak, halfhearted smile. "Not much, I guess."

"Where's Damon?" She asked after a long pause. "Is he… if you're here, that means Klaus' death can't have caused the death of his bloodline."

"It didn't, thankfully," Stefan confirmed. "Damon was…" Stefan began, the frown lines in the crease of his forehead becoming more pronounced, "He was here earlier. We… got into a disagreement, and he left. Said he was headed home, I guess."

"A disagreement about what?" Elena asked, but she was fairly sure she already knew the answer.

"It's not important right now, we'll deal with it later."

Elena wanted to protest, but she couldn't find the words to argue with. Feeling a bit more strength in her limbs than when she'd first woken up, she sat up on the metal slab and looked around at the dreary morgue she found herself in. Stefan was surveying her with a puzzling expression.

"You're taking this much calmer than I thought you would," he bluntly commented.

Elena laughed distractedly. "Then I'm a far better actress than I give myself credit for, because I'm all over the place right now."

There was that damn tight, overly concerned smile again, and she had the unbearable need to just smack it right off his face. She remembered when she was nine and her fifty-year old forth grade teacher Mrs. Higgins was pregnant the majority of the school year and had proceeded to act like a doting grandmother one day and a horrible drill sergeant the next. She'd asked Kelly Donavon about it one day while eating sandwiches in the park with Matt and Vicki, and she'd commented that 'pregnancy makes everyone get weird mood swings and act like a bitch' while Vicki countered with, 'Yeah, and my mom just never got over that stage', to which she and Matt had collapsed into collective giggles. She wondered inattentively if pregnancy mood swings were comparable with transitioning into a vampire mood swings.

"Well, we have to start somewhere. Talk it out; what are you feeling, what are you thinking?"

Elena eyed him warily. "Well, my mind is all over the place. Half of the time I have all these disturbingly violent thoughts that I can't make sense of, and the other half my mind gets caught in random tangents that I can't make sense of either. My throat is so dry, talking actually hurts. I'm craving meat like I never have in my life."

"Well, all of that is normal—"

Elena scoffs. "Nothing about this is normal. I don't want it to be."

"You shouldn't have to have it b—"

"But it is," Elena insisted. "I can't change it, right? I mean… I've heard you talk about it before. It's a decision that everyone makes. Feed or die? Because I'm dead." Her anger subsides for a moment, the reality of her blasé statement hitting her with a force she wasn't expecting. She blinks away the forming tears in her eyes she wasn't even aware of. She laughs nervously, but they sound decisively like sobs after a few seconds. "I'm dead," she states again, this time with much more force and emotion.

"Elena, you can get through this. I know you can. When you want something to work, you have an unrivaled will and determination that most people can't dream of…"

"What if I don't want it to work?" Elena asked suddenly, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the metal in an effort to focus on something other than the burning hunger in the pit of her stomach. "Will it work then?"

"Elena, that's a decision only you can make. It's rare that anyone will ever choose to be a vampire—it's something that happens to you. You have to choose whether you push through it or let the fear of uncertainty reign over it. But Elena, you can be a vampire without letting it define who you are."

"Can you really?" Elena countered back. "You have to kill to maintain a life source, Stefan. How can that not define you?"

Stefan ran a sweaty palm through his mussed hair and regarded her with sad and tired eyes. "I can't seem to do it, but that doesn't mean it isn't possible. You are not me. Vampires are capable of good, Elena, their will to do good just has to be stronger than their impulses. It's not something most people can achieve."

"And you think I could?" She asks, this time genuinely listening.

"I can't say for certain, no one can. Do you think you could?"

Elena was quiet now, deep in introspection. "Stefan, can you do something for me?"

"Anything," he replied immediately.

"Can you find Elijah for me? Get him to come here and talk to me?"

Judging by his facial expression, that was one of the last things Stefan had been expecting. "Elijah?" He asked, taken aback. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Elena-"

"I need to make a decision. He's what I need to help me make it." Her voice was sharper and more composed than he'd heard it in a long time. He knew there were hundreds of ways this could end in disaster—they'd both just indirectly assisted to the death of his brother, after all—but he couldn't dare deny her the request when she sounded so certain in her conviction.

Stefan's voice was nowhere near as confident when he assented to her questioning glance, "I'll make it happen."

So lock the windows,

and bolt the door,

'cause i've got enough problems,

without creating more.

Kol really abhorred Mystic Falls. It wasn't just a passive dislike, either. Unlike his other—more sentimentally inclined, although he'd never dare to say it in front of any of them—siblings, he felt no yearning for the nostalgic comforts of his birthplace. It was all trite foolishness in his mind, the way his siblings seemed to revolve their eternal lives around this dreadfully boring town. Niklaus was attempting to set up a base for an army of hybrid freaks in a town littered with young, self-righteous vampires who would oppose him. It was completely nonsensical, and he wondered if he was the only one of his siblings who had noticed the decline in Niklaus' intelligence since the onset of this 21st century.

Admittedly, outside of Mystic Falls and aside from the stupidity it seemed to infringe on his brother, he was quite enjoying the 21st century. He had been a frequent visitor—and often beneficiary, he wasn't ashamed to admit—to the old brothels of 19th century London. The modern version of these brothels, which he quickly caught on were referred to as 'night clubs', were a tasty treat he didn't object to over-indulging in. Although the music sounded like a mixture of an injured monkey and a screeching Bex being denied a trip to a clothing outlet, the girls were loose, provocative, and the best part? They didn't even charge for their promiscuity, nor did they seem to be in need of donations, if the broad shouldered monstrosities they called 'bouncers' were any indication.

So when a text on his new IPhone—(the title of such a device was still a mystery to him, and when Rebekah had e-mailed him the webpage of a company known as 'Apple', he became even more confused that a prestigious and high-grossing company would willingly designate a name for itself that derived from a fruit)—alerted to him to a distress call from the aforementioned sister, he could hardly wait to board a plane—(another fascinatingly interesting new ritual that he'd love to familiarize himself with, particularly the concept of flight attendants and a practice known as the 'Mile High Club')—and return to the desolate dump of suburbia otherwise known as Mystic Falls.

He would bet good money that Rebekah's only dire need stemmed from the online clothing service sold out of some obscure color choice on a pair of obscenely high and tacky high heels. If she wanted some good shopping, wouldn't it make sense to a logical and rational being of higher intelligence to come to New York City—a land of magical shopping establishments on some strip known as 'Fifth Avenue', at least according to last night's dinner before he silenced her with a bite to the neck—rather than to blather on about the inefficiency of the 'World Wide Web' and a weird contraption known as a 'mouse'?—(It didn't take long to come to terms with the fact that these 21st century humans had a distinct affinity for naming inanimate objects after animals and fruits alike).

He arrived in Richmond at about half past noon and grabbed a bite in the form of an overly chatty and oh so willing redhead named Susan who just couldn't wait to get to Barbados and hop on the dicks of all the gorgeous men she planned to meet at her best friend Cindy's wedding where she was serving as Maid of Honor—(unfortunately, the wedding party would have to go without the scrumptious redhead and her less than savory word choices, but really he was doing the entire island of Barbados and the happy couple an honourable service, no doubt).

He took in the familiar surroundings of the mansions sprawling gardens—(he found it garish and unnecessary, but of course his alpha male brother always found juvenile pleasures in the ego boost of the simpleton's awe)—with his lip curled in distaste. Collectively, his family owned hundreds of mansions, castles and estates across every continent, and yet Niklaus deemed Mystic Falls, VA and an overly tawdry mansion a suitable home base.

He hung his coat in the foyer and grabbed a bag of AB negative—(while Kol adamantly refused to drink most bagged blood vampires were so fond of in this century, he would begrudgingly admit that a warmed bag of AB negative was as close to the vein as he could get for impromptu snacking)—before plopping down on the parlor sofa and closing his eyes.

"Bekah?" He scoffed when he heard no response and flipped his feet onto the coffee table—(he made sure to purposefully leave dirt indents on the glass, as Niklaus' beet red face was some of the best entertainment this insipid town had to offer). "I hope you know that you take this situation for granted, dear sister. Contrary to what the evidence might show, I'm not your beck and call boy."

Rebekah appeared hovering outside the door frame, her arms firmly wrapped around her chest, eyes rimmed with puffy red and mascara marks streaming down her cheeks. Kol was in front of her instantly, pushing a lock of blonde hair away from her face. He had seen his sister annoyed, terrified and enraged on numerous occasions, but it had been countless centuries since he could recall her this visibly upset.

"What happened, Rebekah?"

She shook her head vehemently, collapsing into an upholstered red chair next to the roaring fireplace. She stared into the embers spitting sparks onto the cool granite tile, leaving Kol to survey her dispassionate form in confusion.

"I did not fly half way across the country to this backyard pit of suburbia to watch you engage in a staring contest with a fireplace, Bex. You take advantage of my willingness to appease your every whim, and I think you'd ought to ex-"

"Nik is dead," she whispered, her voice unnervingly hollow and defeated. "Mother fashioned a human into a hunter, capable of taking us all down, and with us, the entire vampire race." As she looked up at Kol, a sob escaped and shook her shoulders, "The bastard killed Nik, Kol. He's gone."

He thinks that were it not for the honesty and sincerity in Elena's eyes as she spoke her risky request, she might've been purposefully sending him on a suicide mission, blind and defenseless, as a sort of twisted punishment and retribution for his impulsive decisions. But he firmly reminds himself that Elena is not Damon—that Elena would never stoop to something as petty as revenge—and that her request stems from desperation and naivety, not intentional cruelty. As he stares at the intricate brass knocker adorned on the front door of the Mikaelson Mansion however, he can't help but feel that Elena's intentions don't diminish the uncertainty of his newest endeavor.

He had no intention to linger outside and listen in, but the distinct sound of sobs from inside froze his hand from moving another inch. It was Rebekah; he knew it intuitively without having to consider other possibilities. He involuntarily cringed at her words—('The bastard killed Nik…'). It had been a very long time since Stefan had ever associated 'Nik' with 'Klaus', but he couldn't deny that the majority of his compartmentalization of Nik—(his old best friend and confidante)—and Klaus—(the hybrid monster that took everything from him)—was entirely purposeful.

It wasn't a matter of regretting the time he spent with Nik and Rebekah in the 20's—(regardless of his insistence that he would wish away that friendship were he given the opportunity, it would never be true)—but rather, some residual resentment that he was compelled in the first place. Over the course of that year of his life, he'd grown to trust and admire Nik in ways he'd never felt for anyone before, and he'd foolishly assumed the same in return.

The next time he saw Nik, he was merely a copy; a deranged and hollow shadow known as 'Klaus' that was a pale imitation of the man he used to be. He would deny it until his last damned day, but he had never hated Nik for the horrors he inflicted on Elena; he would never hate Nik for ruining the best chance of a relationship he'd ever had; he would never hate Nik for destroying the life he'd built in Mystic Falls.

But he would always hate Nik for choosing to run and disparaging their friendship, their brotherhood—their trust.

"Salvatore, right? Are you the impulsive and pathetic one or the woe-is-me ripper boy-wonder?" The smooth, amused voice jolted Stefan back to reality, and he stood up a little straighter with a sharp intake of breath. "I can never seem to differentiate between the two of you, to be quite honest," Kol continued, a lazy smirk on his lips as he leaned against the door frame.

"We've met," Stefan muttered coldly, "Several times."

"Mhm, I'm aware," Kol assented. "However, that gives no credence for why I should remember you. You Salvatores are a somewhat bland lot, you know; what exactly should be memorable about you compared to the other hundreds of guilt-ridden and terribly uninteresting vampires?"

Stefan raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "You seem oddly chirpy and sarcastic, if you consider the circumstances."

Kol's lip quirked in wry amusement. "Bold move, Salvatore. However, something tells me your impromptu stop-by was not motivated by some juvenile desire to gloat over my brother's death. Were that the case, I'd have expected to find a different Salvatore loitering on our doorstep. So…" He takes a pause, enjoying the younger vampire's clear discomfort. "May I help you? Unless, of course, you're in the midst of a mid-life crisis, and have decided that your eternal life lacks such profound meaning that you've deemed the Girl Scouts a worthy cause to dedicate your devotion towards? If so, I must demand that you adorn the proper attire if you want my business."

Stefan gave a despondent chuckle, but before he could properly retort to Kol's snark, a whip of blonde hair flashed before his eyes and Rebekah stood before him, her eyes narrowed with unbridled hatred and her expression of utmost displeasure. "This is a family matter Stefan, don't you think after what you've done to our family that you could at least grant us such a simple courtesy?"

"Courtesy?" Stefan growled in disbelief at her audacity. "You killed my girlfriend, I think the 'common courtesy' ship has long sailed between us."

Rebekah shrugged nonchalantly. "An eye for an eye then, I suppose. Yet, it is neither myself nor any of my family who dares to intrude on your grieving, is it? I think this speaks for itself."

Stefan nodded despite himself, and gave a short, terse reply. "I am not here on any malevolent agenda, I am simply delivering a message. Elena wishes to speak to Elijah, and I don't have the means of contacting him myself. If you choose not to tell him, that's your business. I'm sorry if that infringes on family matters, but with my role in the situation Elena now finds herself in, I thought it was necessary to give her at least that."

Rebekah let out a bark of a laugh and rolled her eyes. "The pristine little doppelganger is a vampire now, then? Well congratulations on your new pet and good luck in the inevitable battle royale between you and Damon for her affections, but if you think we'll stand by passively and let another doppelganger inflict a hold on Elijah, you're far more naïve than you used to be." With that, she stomped back into the house, not sparing Stefan or Kol another glance.

Stefan turned to walk away, but Kol stopped him dead in his tracks. "Who's blood was it, out of curiosity? I imagine it must've been Damon's, right? He's the impulsive one who'd sacrifice her wishes to keep her with him, or so I've been told." Kol's smile was positively sadistic. "That must be awful for you; I've heard that the immediate maker of a new vampire can often strongly affect the inherent behaviors of their bloodline."

Stefan pauses, his face a shade paler than before. "It's not Damon's blood. I haven't got a clue whose blood it is, no one does. A doctor gave it to her to heal her injuries hours before she drowned, and not even she knows, or if she does, she won't tell me." He sighed in irritation and glared at Kol. "Any other questions or may I be relieved of the interrogation?"

Kol's eyebrow shot up in surprise, and Stefan's suspicions heightened. "A doctor, you say?"

"Meredith Fell. She uses vampire blood to heal her patients often, although who knows where she gets such a consistent stock of it."

Kol's eyes were dancing with mischievous satisfaction, and Stefan shifted his feet uncomfortably; there was nothing remotely reassuring about that. "Well, for the sake of you and your merry band of misfits, I sure do hope that I'm incorrect in what I've heard about new vampires and their bloodlines. For who knows what kind of ruthless and monstrous vampire sweet little Elena could've been made from?"

Stefan took a step forward, his voice low and threatening. "Are you trying to intimidate me? I advise you keep the backhanded comments to yourself."

Kol surveyed Stefan with an impassive expression before promptly bursting into laughter. "Do all you rippers lack a sense of humor or are you just a particularly special case?" He clapped Stefan on the shoulder and gave him a broad grin. "Relax Salvatore, go back to your girl and do try to remove that permanent scowl from your face. It's highly unattractive, how did you even manage to get your girl in the first place?" Kol promptly shut the door in his face before Stefan could get a word in edgewise and listened with a satisfied smirk as the vampire stormed off the property, huffing the entire way. When Kol was sure Stefan was out of earshot, he sat down on the parlor chaise and slung his arm around Rebekah's shoulder.

"You know what this means, don't you Bex?"

Rebekah nodded distractedly. "Stefan Salvatore is alive; how is it possible? You swear you saw Nik turn Mary with your own eyes, and I witnessed her turning Rose myself as well." Rebekah stared at the opposite wall, lost in her searching for meaning of this new development.

"It means that Niklaus is not dead; it means that he cannot be." Her head snapped up at once to stare at her brother in disbelief and shock. "And," he went on, a triumphant smirk on his lips, "The Golden Girl of Mystic Falls is created from my blood." He picked up a decanter filled with rum and passed it to Rebekah, her eyes still wide and movements unresponsive. "If that's not positively hilarious, I can't think of what is."

Rebekah was still gaping at him. "How is that even possible? You've been gone from Mystic Falls for months."

"Nothing you need to fret about, dear sister." He brushed back a strand of her hair and chided her as he took a swig of drink. "Smile, Bekah; frowning is not a good look on you. Niklaus is alive, and the Salvatore's tug of war rope is a vampire created by me. I fail to see the problem in this; I for one find it deliciously priceless." He leaned back and took another celebratory swig, the corners of his mouth turned in amusement.

"Mystic Falls just got a lot more interesting."

Notes: Next time we'll be introduced to Damon's storyline, as he reflects by means of brooding and bourbon, and receives a (not-so) surprising guest at the Boarding House. Also included will be the Elena/Elijah interaction in which they will have a meaningful and emotional discussion/debate/argument on morality and vampires.

I am going to attempt to set up a schedule to have an update for this story every other Friday night/Saturday morning. If you follow any of my other stories or know my bad habits, you will realize this might be a pipe dream. I suppose we'll all find out the Friday after next. :)

Thanks for reading; I love and welcome any comments, suggestions or critiques.